Asgard's Conquerors

28

When we were all safely inside, with the door closed, I relaxed a bit. Not that it was a very relaxing situation—the gleam in John Finn’s eye suggested that he would like nothing better than to blow my head off. He still blamed me for everything. The three invaders with him were as nervous as cats, though I guessed that they hadn’t the slightest suspicion of what the real situation was.

Thalia-7 and Calliope-4 stood up, anxiously. “What has happened?” asked one of them.

The invader officer looked at them, but didn’t answer. He seemed very uneasy indeed, as if none of this was making much sense to him. That was hardly surprising.

“What’s happening at the prison camp?” I asked him. “The negotiations between the scions and your superiors must be under way by now.”

I got no response save for a blank stare. He didn’t know anything about any negotiations. He didn’t know that Thalia, Calliope and all their siblings were scions of the Nine. To him, they looked like members of a conquered race, and he couldn’t figure out what they were doing here. He was out of his intellectual depth.

“Who brought you here?” I asked, trying to take the initiative in what was sure to be a difficult conversation, and hoping that I could explain it all to him.

“As a matter of fact,” said John Finn, “you did.”

I looked at him in puzzlement, thrown out of my conversational stride. He was grinning with smug satisfaction. I could only wait for him to explain.

“You were right about me,” he said. “I know what you told the blonde while we were sick in that hospital. You told her I couldn’t be trusted. Dead right—I don’t owe one damn thing to the Star Force, or Mother Earth, or the whole human race, let alone the Tetrax. When the invaders picked me up, I told them everything they wanted to know—and then some. I told them about all the little gadgets the Tetrax gave me, about which I knew a little bit more than the Tetrax thought I did. Told the Scarids how to start searching for all the bugs that were already in place. Found lots of them in the city—and we found some in places we never expected to. Took me a while to realise that I was carrying a bug myself, but I figured it out. My boot heels were leaking some kind of organic muck, leaving a trail for an olfactory sensor. Guess who else has a couple just like them.”

I remembered what had happened last time I had been followed into the deeper levels.

“Oh merde!” I said. “Not again!”

He nodded.

“But why?” I asked. “It doesn’t make sense for the Tetrax to bug their own agents.”

“Maybe they didn’t trust you,” said Finn. “Want to know what I think? I think they expected us to defect to the opposition—if not immediately, as soon as we found out what we were really carrying. They knew we’d be in trouble when the invaders found out that we were carrying that damned virus. They expected us to take the obvious way out. And they wanted to be able to find us again when the war was over.”

I suppose it was just about plausible, but I didn’t believe it. The Tetrax had no interest in persecuting us. My theory was that they had tagged us for our own good—so that they could save us from the wrath of the invaders, if they got the chance. The Tetrax fight dirty, but they do have that curious sense of obligation, and in their own weird fashion they do go in for orderly moral bookkeeping. A man like John Finn wouldn’t begin to understand things like that, though, so I didn’t try to argue with him. Anyway, he hadn’t finished bragging yet about how clever he had been.

“The Scarids don’t know anything about electronic security,” he told us all, “but it didn’t take me long to show them what was going on in Skychain City. Was a lot sharper than the Tetrax gave me credit for, that’s for sure. Then I fell ill, and they shipped me downstairs with the others. When we all broke out, though, they discovered just how useful the information I’d given them was. Tracked us here—no more than a couple of days behind.”

It was interesting enough, in its way, but it was distracting us from the issue at hand. I turned back to the man with sky-blue eyes.

“The situation’s changed now,” I told him. “The Isthomi in the camp. . . .”

“You bet the situation’s changed,” Finn interrupted. He wanted to be in charge—to call the tune. “Skychain City is in the hands of the Tetrax again, and they’re shipping in war materials just as fast as they can.”

I ignored him, and continued to appeal to the man with blond hair. “Lives are being lost,” I told him. “The Tetrax will run right over you if your people don’t capitulate. There’s no help for you here—not the kind of help you’re looking for. These people aren’t your ancestors, and they can’t give you any superweapons to help you turn the tide of battle. All they can do is make their own peace with the Tetrax—and they have a great deal to offer. They have already begun to talk to your people, back in your own levels. You can only foul things up by running around with guns down here. Believe me, it’s all out of our hands.”

It was no good. He was only a soldier. I might as well have been talking to a brick wall. It wasn’t just that he didn’t believe me—I just wasn’t making any sense at all. I had to try harder, but I didn’t even know where to start.

I glanced sideways at Finn, wishing he weren’t there to complicate matters. “What exactly do you intend to do?” I asked, in a tone as gentle as I could manage.

“We want weapons,” said Sky-blue, as though it were perfectly obvious. “We want the mindscramblers you described to Dyan. We want weapons powerful enough to stop the Tetrax and drive them offworld again. We want to take control of Asgard, and keep it.”

“And how do you intend to proceed?” I asked, trying not to be sarcastic. I turned briefly to look at the scions, who seemed utterly bemused by it all. They were content to leave it to me for the time being, it seemed. I was flattered by their confidence, but I couldn’t believe that I was actually making any headway in this crazy discussion.

“We want to speak with the immortals,” said the blond- haired soldier, in his best heroic manner. “We want you to take us to the people who rule this habitat.”

“I don’t need to take you to them,” I told him. “They’re here. Not just Thalia and Calliope—the walls, the floor, the ceiling. They’re not people like you and me—they’re electronic personalities. Sentient computer programmes. They don’t have bodies as you understand them. They’re all around us.” His eyes were blank, and I knew that I wasn’t getting through. “I can’t help wishing that they’d take a more active part in all this,” I went on. “I wouldn’t object in the slightest if they put us all to sleep with one of their fancy tricks, and let us sort things out without those guns you’re waving around.”

I was assuming, of course, that the Nine were quietly observing all this, as they’d quietly stood by while the Star Force settled accounts with Amara Guur on my last visit. I assumed that they had the situation completely in hand: that these cowboys had been detected and closely watched ever since they had penetrated this level, and that the only reason the Nine hadn’t yet acted was that there was no need to panic. I wished, though, that they could take a hint.

But nothing happened, and I couldn’t help casting an anxious glance at Thalia and Calliope. I realised that I didn’t really know how badly the Nine had been injured by their software skirmish. Maybe they hadn’t been paying attention when the Scarid soldiers sneaked up. I knew they were supposed to be paying attention now, because Myrlin had told me that they’d be eavesdropping on my conversation with the scions. But there was only silence and inaction.

Was it possible, I wondered, that the Isthomi no longer had sufficient control of their own systems to take effective action against the invaders? And if so—then where, oh where, was Myrlin?

“You’re not in any position to make demands,” I told Sky-blue. “Surely you must realise that.”

“As it happens,” said the Scarid, “we are in a stronger position than you think. I believe you were wounded when they brought you down here. You didn’t see the machine or the shaft connecting this level to the ones above. It’s a very deep and unusually wide shaft. I don’t know how many levels it extends to below this one, but I know there are many hundreds above. The total volume of the shaft must be immense.”

“So what?” I said.

“So it’s evacuated,” said Finn, with a sneer. “The warning signs aren’t in any language we know, but whoever posted them intended them to be clear to anyone with an atom of intelligence. We had a long journey down here, and plenty of time to figure out the graffiti. That cage goes smoothly up and down in an evacuated shaft which is deep enough to suck an awful lot of air out of this habitat. All it takes is enough high explosive to blow the lock. We can do a lot of damage with one big bang, and if the people of this level like air, perhaps they ought to talk to us, okay?”

I shook my head in disbelief. “You don’t get it, do you?” I said exasperatedly. “You have no idea what kind of a universe we’re living in. I don’t know whether you really have enough explosives to blow a hole in this habitat—maybe you do. But you can’t hurt the Isthomi. They don’t need air any more than they need light, and you could blast away at them for years with your stupid popguns and not hurt them. Can’t either of you get it into your heads that your firepower isn’t any good any more?”

They looked at the guns in their hands, which were still pointed at my chest.

I turned again to Thalia and Calliope, appealing for some assistance. I felt that I had done all I could, and that it was their turn now. I had the uneasy suspicion that they were still observing, in fascination, the interactions of all these strange alien beings, as though they were watching down the barrel of a microscope as a culture of bacteria underwent some kind of awful crisis. Perhaps they weren’t even wondering whether they ought to care.

“We can take you to a place where you may communicate directly with the Nine,” said Calliope.

I wasn’t entirely sure what she meant. Surely the Nine were here. They were in the walls; they were in the sky.

They were hearing every word. We didn’t have to go anywhere. Or was it me that didn’t understand?

It was hardly for me to complain. I was only an innocent bystander.

“Haven’t you seen them already, Finn?” I asked. “Didn’t you see any ghosts when you woke up?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied.

“I should have told Myrlin to let sleeping dogs lie,” I said. “You did meet Myrlin?”

“The big guy who brought me out of that weird maze? Sure. He went back in again—that was just before I found my friends here.”

“They’re not your friends, John,” I told him, switching from parole into English. “Compared to these guys, the Star Force is your father and your mother. You may be a piece of shit, but you’re a piece of shit in Susarma Lear’s command. Her you can trust. The Neanderthalers would shoot you in the back as soon as look at you.”

Sky-blue was waving his gun, to suggest that he didn’t like what I was doing.

“Shut up, Rousseau,” said Finn, in parole.

“I want to be taken to someone in authority,” said Sky- blue. “Now.”

Thalia-7 intervened, and began talking to the invaders in what I assumed to be their own language.

The officer replied in kind, and all of a sudden he was launched into a dialogue with the two scions. I felt a little hurt about my sudden exclusion, and also a little anxious. The most obvious reason for switching languages was that Sky-blue’s non-parole-speaking friends could now understand what was being said, but there was a nagging doubt in my mind that it might be because they didn’t want me to understand. I reminded myself that the scions might look like elongated teddy bears, but there was no way to be sure that they cared one way or the other what became of me.

About three minutes went by before they switched back to a language I knew. Then it was Calliope who spoke—to me.

“We will do as this man wishes,” she said, confirming the apparently nonsensical suggestion she’d made earlier. “We will guide him through the corridors, so that he may speak directly with the Nine.”

If she wanted to shoot them a line, that was okay by me. It was the Nine’s world, and the rest of us, whether we knew it or not, were probably about as important to them as insects, no matter how interesting we might be. The Nine were in control—I didn’t doubt that for a moment—and I was ready to play along with anything they said.

“Okay,” I said. “If that’s what it takes.”

So we set out to retrace my steps into the maze of corridors that was one tiny part of the body of the Nine. As we went, I was uncomfortably aware of John Finn walking behind me, reveling in the fact that he had a gun pointed at my spine. I consoled myself with the one small measure of unholy glee that I could discover. If Finn had got away without facing ghosts before, I thought, he certainly wasn’t going to get away without facing them now.